


Readiness is Near

by greenandgolden



Category: One Direction (Band), Zayn Malik (Musician)
Genre: Dad Harry, Kidfic, M/M, Mutual Pining, Past Relationships, Student Harry, Teacher Niall, Teacher Zayn, Teacher-Student Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-22
Updated: 2017-08-22
Packaged: 2018-11-21 18:09:40
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 13,773
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11362845
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/greenandgolden/pseuds/greenandgolden
Summary: “Morning everybody, sorry I’m late.”Harry looks up from his tablet, his heart dropping when he sees Zayn walking into the room. He’s heading for the desk in the front and no, this is not happening. Harry did not just douse his professor in coffee. He did not just give his professor his shirt and his phone number.A teacher!zayn, (adult) student!harry kidfic.Title from Matt Corby's "Resolution"





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [leighbot](https://archiveofourown.org/users/leighbot/gifts).



> For leighbot
> 
> I wrote about ten thousand variations of all of your prompts but nothing stuck until I started this one. I hope you enjoy it. x

_Dear Future First Grader,_

_I am excited that school will soon be starting. I hope that you have had an awesome summer and I can’t wait to hear about it! I have been busy getting the classroom ready for the new school year and look forward to starting a new learning adventure with you!_

_I hope to see your brilliant smiles at Open House on Wednesday, August 30th from 4:00-6:00 pm at Northview Elementary. Please bring your school supplies with you and drop them off in our classroom that evening. I have enclosed a supply list in case you still need one. If you can’t come to the Open House, I will see you on the first day of school, September 1st at 8:30!_

_Have fun during the last few days of summer vacation. I look forward to seeing you soon!_

_Sincerely,_

_Mr. Horan_

_\---_

“You ready?” Harry asks, looking down at the little boy holding his hand. Sawyer is staring up at the building, eyes wide and lips pressed together as he takes in his new surroundings. This is where he goes to school now, where he’ll go to school for the next five years. This isn’t kindergarten, he’s not a little baby. He’s a first grader, a big boy, he has something to prove now.

“Yep.”

“Okay,” Harry smiles, giving Sawyer’s hand a reassuring squeeze as they walk through the front doors.

Harry made sure to come right at four o’clock, hoping to beat the after work rush of parents and children. Registration is always a bit chaotic and with them both being out of their element, he’s thankful when he sees only a few families walking down the main hallway. He knows how overwhelming it is going to a new school and he wants Sawyer to be comfortable, knows he needs to be comfortable in order to thrive, and that’s all Harry really wants.

“We have to stop here first,” Harry tells him, leading him to a table set up outside of the front office. The letter he’d received in the mail told him that he needed to stop and pay all of the school year’s fees, for field trips and snack time and ten dollars if they choose to order a yearbook. _A yearbook_ Harry thinks, smiling to himself as he writes the check and hands it over.

“Mr. Horan’s room is all the way down the hall, the last room on the right,” the woman tells Sawyer, handing him a piece of paper with a map of the school on it, and a big star over the classroom that he’ll be in. It shouldn’t be too difficult, it’s only two hallways, but when you’re six and you don’t know your surroundings, two hallways can seem like a never-ending maze.

“What do you say?” Harry whispers, tugging lightly on a strand of hair falling over his son’s eyes. Gemma had begged him to cut it before the school year started but Sawyer had firmly told her no, that if Daddy got to have long hair, so could he. Harry didn’t argue.

“Thank you,” Sawyer murmurs as he takes Harry’s hand and walks alongside him down the hall.

There’s an aquarium built into the wall a few doors down from Sawyer’s classroom. Harry lets him stop to admire, listens intently as he points out the ones that look the same as the doctor’s office he used to go to. When he continues toward his new room, he doesn’t pick Harry’s hand back up, just grabs the straps of his backpack and heads off. _He’s getting too big_ , Harry thinks to himself as he follows close behind. _He’s not a baby anymore, he doesn’t need me all the time_. He feels a quick wave of sadness wash over him as they approach the classroom but he shakes it off. This isn’t about him, this is about his son. He can pout and cry later when he’s in bed, alone, for the thousandth night in a row.

Harry hears laughter coming from inside the room, adults mixed with children, one voice standing out above the rest. There’s a lilt to it, something he doesn’t recognize, and his curiosity gets the best of him as he peeks around the doorframe and takes a look in.

There are children everywhere, some obviously little brothers or sisters as their size and the way they toddle indicates they aren’t old enough for first grade. There are little clusters of adults all around the room, one near the door where Harry sees a blonde guy about his age, the guy with the laugh, as he throws his head back again, finding something hysterical. He hopes that’s the teacher. He looks like he’d be fun.

“Okay?” Harry asks, looking down at Sawyer. His eyes are huge as he looks around the room, clearly overwhelmed. But he’s always been one to settle quickly, which makes Harry’s life so much easier. He’s not worried about him fitting in or making friends. Once he meets someone he likes, his shell shatters and everyone around him is drawn to him. Harry’s mom has said since Sawyer came into their lives that he’s the most charismatic person she’s ever met. Harry can’t disagree.

“Hello.” Harry jumps about a foot in the air, clutching one hand over his chest and the other grabbing the table near his thigh that he bumps into, as the blonde next to him cackles. It’s the kind of laugh that garners attention from most of the room, loud and buoyant but more in a charming way than obnoxious. Harry laughs nervously, the laugh that Gemma says sounds like a hyena, high pitched and unattractive, and feels his cheeks heat up when people turn to look. “Sorry, sorry,” blonde guy tells him, wiping an imaginary tear from his eye. “Didn’t mean to scare you.”

“Oh no, it’s okay. I’m jumpy by nature.”

“It’s a lot to take in,” the guy gestures around the room. “Orientation’s always crazy. Things’ll settle by the end of the first week. Niall Horan.” He holds his hand out for Harry, smiling when he shakes it.

“Harry Styles.”

“And who might you be?” Mr. Horan bends down and holds a hand out to Sawyer who takes it gingerly and gives it a little shake before pulling back.

“Sawyer Twist Styles. Who are you?”

“It’s very nice to meet you, Sawyer. My name’s Mr. Horan, I’ll be your teacher this year.”

“You talk funny.”

“Sawyer,” Harry hisses, tugging on the sleeve of his shirt. His face is burning in embarrassment but Mr. Horan just laughs it off, taking Sawyer’s hand and pulling him farther into the room.

“This,” Mr. Horan tells him, pointing to a small spot on the map as he crouches down “is Ireland. Have you ever heard of it?” Sawyer nods. “This is where I’m from. You can’t see it on here, but there’s a tiny town right about there,” he explains, his pointer finger tapping the spot. “It’s called Mullinger, and that’s where I grew up.”

“How did you get here?” Sawyer asks.

“On an airplane.” Mr. Horan looks up at Harry and smiles politely, eyes crinkling in the corners, before shifting back to Sawyer. “I came here to go to college and I liked it so much, I decided to stay.”

“Don’t you miss your dad?”

“I do,” Mr. Horan nods, his smile dimming just a bit. Sawyer probably doesn’t notice but Harry does, the way his smile goes from fond to a bit sad. Harry can’t imagine being across the world from his family. He’d gone and picked up their lives and moved them two hours north just to be closer to Gemma because two hours felt like an eternity. He couldn’t ever live a plane ride away. “And my mum and my brother.”

“I don’t have a brother,” Sawyer tells him, looking back up at the map. He’s not sad when he says it, just factual. “Just Daddy.”

Harry looks down at his shoes then, concentrating on the toes of his boots instead of where he can see Mr. Horan looking at him in his peripheral. It’s not something he talks about much, how he’s a single father and his son hasn’t ever met his mom. How Harry only met her once, the night they’d slept together, and never saw her again because she was too much of a coward to bring the baby to him herself, she had to send a friend to tell Harry he was a father. He’d stared at that girl he’d never even met as she explained how her friend didn’t want the baby and if Harry didn’t either, he could deal with it.

When he looks back up, Sawyer’s running off toward the desks, Mr. Horan gently reminding him to slow down as he stretches to his full height. 

“He seems great,” Mr. Horan tells him, smiling over at where Sawyer is talking to Kensi, the girl whose desk is next to his. “He’s new here, yeah?”

“Yeah. We just moved last month. My sister lives here and like he said, it’s just us, so.” Harry shrugs, turning his attention to his son. He doesn’t want to explain the situation to Niall. Not now, at least. “Wanted to be closer to family.”

“Well, I’m sure he’ll fit right in,” Mr. Horan assures him. “And if you ever have any concerns, or you just want to check up on him, don’t hesitate to reach out. My email’s in the packet on his desk and I try to be good about getting back to people quickly. So let me know if you need anything.” He glances over Harry’s shoulder, toward the door where his TA is greeting more parents for him. “I’ve got to go say hello but it was really nice meeting you, Harry.”

“Yeah,” Harry nods, smiling in return, stepping out of the way. “You too.”

“Daddy!” Harry looks up at the sound of Sawyer’s voice, sees him waving at him from across the room. “I found my desk!”

“Inside voice,” Harry reminds him, smiling as he weaves his way across the room. He spends the next twenty minutes listening to Sawyer interact with his classmates and meeting a few of the other parents. When they leave, hand in hand, Sawyer telling him how excited he is for the first day, any worries Harry had about him switching schools dissolves.

\---

“Here we go.” Harry pulls up to the drop off line and puts the car in park. When he looks into the backseat, Sawyer’s already unbuckling and trying to get his backpack on. Harry tells him to slow down and reaches back to help him get his arms into the loops without choking himself. “I’ll pick you up right here after school, okay?”

“Okay,” Sawyer chirps, leaning forward to give Harry a kiss before he scoots over to open his door. Mr. Horan is right there waiting for him, waving at Harry as he takes Sawyer’s hand.

“Have a good day, bud!”

“You too Daddy!” Sawyer waves at Harry through the open window, smiling up at Mr. Horan as they walk to the line where the other kids in his class are waiting to go in. Harry takes a second to watch them go, takes a deep breath and puts the car back into drive, looking both ways before he pulls away from the curb. He’s got his own class to get to, and he’s way more nervous for himself than he is for his kid.

\---

He’s running late. Harry curses as he looks at his phone, dodging other people as he speed walks toward his building. Of course the only parking spot he could find was across campus, which left only a few minutes for him to find where he’s supposed to be going.

He spots the sign for Nelson Hall and rushes toward the building, not paying attention to his surroundings. He doesn’t want to be that guy, the one who walks in right as the teacher introduces themselves and the whole room stares at him judgingly and the teacher thinks he’s going to be a problem.

It’s just as he’s about to reach for the door when he slams into something solid, the overwhelming scent of coffee filling his senses before he realizes what’s happened.

“Oh my God.” Harry looks at the guy in front of him, specifically at his shirt that’s now covered in coffee, and his heart drops. “Fuck, I am so sorry, I wasn’t looking-“

“It’s okay,” the guy laughs, gently taking Harry’s wrist in his hand and moving him away from where Harry’s trying to wipe the coffee off. He’s really just making it worse but he doesn’t do well when he panics, so he’s probably just rubbing it in even more.

He makes to apologize, looking up at his victim’s face, but when their eyes meet, Harry forgets what he was going to say.

Harry’s met a lot of attractive people in his life. He’s dated his fair share of them, before Sawyer became his entire world, but as his eyes dance over the this guy’s features, he doesn’t think he’s ever seen anyone more beautiful. And he’s just made a huge ass out of himself.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers, eyes wide and a little terrified. “I wasn’t paying attention.” He glances down again and fuck, he’s completely ruined this guy’s shirt, and possibly his jeans, but in order to get a better look he’d have to stare at the guy’s crotch and he’s embarrassed himself enough. “Shit, you’re soaked. Are you okay? Oh my God, is it hot?” He reaches out again but the guy just squeezes his wrist and Harry realizes he’s still holding onto him. He hopes he can’t feel how fast his pulse is beating under his fingertips.

“It’s alright,” the guy tells him, finally letting go of Harry’s wrist. Harry grabs it with his own hand, feeling how warm the skin is, like this stranger’s fingers burned him, but not in a painful way. More like a static shock. “Thankfully I enjoy my coffee lukewarm, so no harm done.”

“Oh good,” Harry sighs. “I’d feel even worse if I hurt you.”

“All good, promise.”

“Okay.” Harry glances down at his phone, cursing when he realizes he’s officially late. “Fuck, I’ve got to go. Can I give you my sweatshirt?” He sets his messenger bag on the ground and starts pulling it off before he hears a protest, but he won’t take no for an answer. “Please?” he begs, handing it over. “You can’t go to class soaked.”

“Okay,” the guy laughs, taking the sweatshirt and holding it as his side, careful not to get it wet. “Thank you…?”

“Harry. I’m Harry.”

“Zayn,” the guy nods, smiling at him. “Well Harry, it was nice to meet you but I’m really late and-“

“No, no, go,” Harry tells him. “I’m late too.” He bends down and grabs a pen out of his bag, taking Zayn’s hand in his own without asking. He hastily scribbles his number on Zayn’s palm and tells himself it’s only because he’s being nice. It has nothing to do with how gorgeous Zayn is or how soft his skin is or how he smells good, even over the coffee. No, he’s just trying to make things right. “Let me buy you another coffee,” Harry suggests, shouldering his bag as he reaches for the door.

“You don’t have to, it’s fine.”

“Please?” Harry gives his best pout, the pout he thinks is cute and flirty. Gemma once told him he looked like a puppy and really, that’s not all that bad. Maybe Zayn’s a dog guy?

“Okay,” Zayn laughs, thanking Harry as he holds the door for him. “Now get to class. Don’t want your prof pissed at you the first day.”

“Yes sir.” Harry salutes him as he goes, taking the stairs two at a time and nearly falling on his face when he looks back and sees Zayn still watching him.

“Be careful!” Zayn laughs, shaking his head before he disappears around a corner. Harry’s heart is pounding in his chest as he makes his way toward his class, and he smiles when he realizes it has nothing to do with being late.

\---

“Morning everybody, sorry I’m late.”

Harry looks up from his tablet, his heart dropping when he sees Zayn walking into the room. He’s heading for the desk in the front and no, this is not happening. Harry did not just douse his professor in coffee. He did not just give his professor his shirt and his phone number. But then Harry takes a closer look at Zayn’s wearing his sweatshirt and, _fuck_.

It’s a little baggy, the sleeves pushed up to his elbows showcasing what looks like sleeves of tattoos that Harry instantly itches to see up close. He wants to see how far up they go, what they’re of, what their meanings are. He watches Zayn set his bag on the chair behind the big wooden desk that faces the room before he turns toward the class, hands on his hips, eyes sweeping over the crowd.

“I’m Zayn Malik, and welcome to Advanced Study in Graphic Design Processes. I’ll be spending the next four months with you-” He breaks off when his eyes land on Harry, but only for a second before he gives a little nod in recognition, and he’s still smiling which must be a good sign, before he continues looking the class over. Harry’s face is on fire and he slouches down a bit, trying to be unnoticeable as Zayn gives a brief overview of the syllabus and tells everyone what page to open up to.

He tries his hardest not to stare the entire hour but Zayn’s voice is captivating and Harry hates to admit it but seeing Zayn pacing in front of the room in _his_ sweatshirt is getting him a _li_ -ttle hard, enough that he has to shift in his seat to get comfortable.

Harry waits to get up until most of the class is out the door, wanting to catch Zayn and apologize again without anyone giving them funny looks. Zayn looks up from where he’s scribbling something in a notebook, most likely hearing Harry’s boots clacking on the ground, and smiles at him before he finishes whatever he’s writing down.

“We meet again.”

“I am so sorry,” Harry repeats, adjusting his bag on his shoulder. “I didn’t know you were my teacher-“

“Would that have stopped you from running me over?” Zayn laughs.

“No, but I wouldn’t have given you my number.” The second the words are out, Harry wants to slap himself.

“Ouch.” Zayn holds a hand over his heart, rubbing it like Harry’s wounded him. “Fair enough.”

“I didn’t mean…I just…fuck,” Harry groans, slapping his hands over his face. “I’m gonna go, now that I’ve made a bigger ass of myself.” He peaks through his fingers, his cheeks heating up when he sees the fond smile on Zayn’s face. How the hell is he supposed to make it through an entire semester with _that face_? “I just, I wanted to apologize. Again.”

“Like I said before, no worries,” Zayn shrugs. “Accidents happen.”

“Yeah. Well, I’ll um…I’ll see you next week?” He nearly rolls his eyes at himself. Of course Zayn’s going to be there, he’s the fucking teacher.

“I’ll be here.”

Harry’s walking to his car, thinking about what a knob he is and what he’s going to make for dinner, when his phone buzzes in his pocket. He pulls it out as he unlocks his car, tossing his bag onto the passenger seat before looking at the screen. It’s a number he doesn’t know, but his heart thumps in his chest when he reads the message.

_For the record, I’m glad you ran into me today. See you next week._

Harry rests an elbow on the door as he drives to the grocery store, running his fingers over his lips, hoping no one passing him sees the goofy smile on his face.

\---

“I hate peas.” Sawyer scowls down at his plate, grimacing as Harry plops them next to his chicken.

“They’re good for you,” Harry reminds him. They’ve had this conversation a hundred times, about every green vegetable, and it always ends with Sawyer begrudgingly shoveling them into his mouth with an empty promise to never eat them again. “You eat them at school.”

“Mr. Horan says we can’t go out for recess if we don’t finish our lunch.”

“He’s a smart man.”

“How come I can’t have cold lunch?” Sawyer pouts, watching as Harry cuts up his chicken for him. “Kyler’s mom gives him Lunchables and Kensi always has cupcakes or brownies in her lunchbox.”

Harry keeps his mouth shut as he fills his own plate. He wants to say that Kyler’s mom doesn’t give a shit what she feeds her kid because if she did, she wouldn’t pump him full of processed meats and cheese that have little to no nutritional value. Or how Kensi gets sweets because he overheard her mother saying that if she doesn’t get a treat, she throws a tantrum and she just ‘ _doesn’t want to deal with it_.’” But Harry’s not one to bash other parents in front of his kid, he’s better than that. He hasn’t always been the best parent, hasn’t always made the best decisions and he’s certainly had to bribe his kid a time or two, so he just explains it as easily as he can.

“There’s nothing wrong with school lunch.” He smiles to himself as he takes a seat and watches Sawyer spoon peas into his mouth. He doesn’t mind them nearly as much as he claims he does, he just likes to complain about it. He gets that from Gemma. Harry thinks if pouting over green vegetables is Sawyer’s version of rebelling, he’ll take it. “It’s good for you and Daddy can’t afford Lunchables and cupcakes.” It’s not a lie. He works his ass off just to keep them comfortable, and the school gives Sawyer free lunch because of his single income and the fact that he’s also a student. He can’t turn that down right now, not with an actual mortgage and a car lease that makes him cringe every time his monthly payment is due. “Eat up, it’s getting late.”

Bath time is easy as ever. Sawyer plays in the tub for a few minutes before washing up while Harry does his nightly facial routine. The stress of moving and going back to school on top of Sawyer’s new school has been wreaking havoc on his skin and he refuses to go back to his prepubescent stage, when according to Gemma he looked like the before picture from a ProActiv commercial. He’s still bitter about that.

“Daddy?” Sawyer watches Harry turn on the Avengers nightlight Gemma got him for his new room and waits for his dad to sit down next to him.

“Yeah, bud?” Harry smooths away the curls on Sawyer’s forehead before resting his hand over his chest. It used to be the only way Harry could get him to sleep, for Sawyer to feel the weight of his hand anchoring him. Now all he needs is a kiss and a nightlight and he’s down for the count. As much as Harry appreciates those extra few minutes of me time at the end of the night, his baby is growing up too fast.

“Next week we’re going to the planetiam-”

“Planetarium,” Harry corrects.

“Mr. Horan said you could come. You can ride the bus with us and have lunch with us and you get a red nametag. You like red, don’t you?”

“I do,” Harry laughs, leaning down to kiss the dimple on Sawyer’s cheek. He always makes things sound so easy, like the color of his nametag will seal the deal. Harry’s often jealous of his naiveté. When he was younger he always complained about being a kid, like most kids do, and now that’s he’s an adult, it’s not all it’s cracked up to be.

“So will you?” Sawyer pleads, big green eyes staring up at Harry. “I won’t even sit by Gage, I’ll sit by you the whole time so you aren’t lonely, I promise. Pleaaaaaase?”

“I’ll see what I can do.” Harry doesn’t make promises, not unless he knows for sure he can keep them, and he has two classes that day, one of which is Zayn’s. As much as he wants to go with Sawyer and his class to see the stars, he also doesn’t want to miss anything important, and the thought of going two weeks without seeing Zayn kind of makes his stomach hurt, even if they haven’t had that much time to talk.

“Try really hard,” Sawyer begs, his bottom lip pouting out. Harry leans down and smacks a kiss to it because he knows he won’t get shoved away yet. He’s still cool in Sawyer’s eyes, still his best friend. He doesn’t even want to think of the day when Sawyer pushes his face away or dodges a hug when he drops him off at school. Harry’s sure he’ll cry for days, but then again he’s always been a bit dramatic.

“The hardest,” he whispers, shoving his face into the crease of Sawyer’s neck and blowing a raspberry before he stands up. “Sweet dreams.”

“Sweet dreams,” Sawyer yawns, rolling onto his side to face the door. Harry leaves it open a crack, bending down to turn on the nightlight he keeps out in the hall in case Sawyer needs him or the bathroom during the night. He waits for a minute, listens for the rustling of Sawyer’s sheets to stop before he moves down the hall to his own room, turning out the light and crawling into his own bed.

\---

_Harry-_

_Sawyer said you were interested in chaperoning the planetarium field trip. Fill out the green form and send it back in his folder tomorrow and I’ll add you to the list. Bus leaves at 8:45 if you want to ride with us. Hope you can make it!_

_P.S., I included a list of future trips in case you’re interested._

_-Niall_

_\---_

Harry doesn’t usually bump into Zayn outside of class. He’s seen him once or twice, coming out of the lounge or talking to another guy Harry assumed (and hoped) was another teacher, but they’ve never interacted outside of the classroom aside from their original meeting. Zayn looks busy, his nose buried in a book while his hands click away at the keys on his laptop. It’s something Harry can’t do, type without looking at the keyboard. He’s never been good at multi-tasking, no matter how hard he tries.

“Zayn?” Harry waits until he looks up, chewing on the corner of his lip as Zayn smiles at him, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose. In the two months he’s been in Zayn’s class, he’s never seen him in glasses, which is a total shame because he’s even more gorgeous with them on, if that’s possible.

“Hey Harry.” Zayn uses his foot to push out the chair across from him and watches as Harry takes a seat. He’s been in the library for hours and he’s been meaning to take a break, to stretch his legs and maybe run over to the cafeteria to grab a sandwich or something but every time he thought about stopping, he found something else interesting and food was lost on him. “You have class today?”

“Yeah,” Harry nods, resting his elbows on the table. He rubs his hands over his eyes as he talks, absolutely exhausted. Sawyer had woken up just after midnight shaking and covered in tears, crawling into his bed and worrying him sick when he wouldn’t tell him what his nightmare was about. When he’d finally settled down enough to relax in Harry’s arms, he told him that he’d dreamt that Harry went to heaven and he had to go live with Grandma Anne and Grandpa Robin, leaving his friends and Mr. Horan behind. Harry pulled him closer and kissed him wherever he could reach, telling him it was okay and that he wasn’t ever leaving him. Neither of them got much sleep after that. “Family structure and interaction. Normally I love it but it was literally the longest two hours of my life and I just want to crawl into bed for the next twelve hours.”

“Then you should.”

“Yeah right,” Harry laughs because Zayn makes it sound so easy. “I have a dozen things that I need to get done so unfortunately, that’s not an option.”

“Anything I can help with?”

“No.” Harry smiles at him, thinking that if Zayn only knew what he all had to do, he’d probably cry himself. “No, thanks though. I actually wanted to talk to you about something.”

“Okay.” Zayn leans back in his chair, disregarding his work so Harry knows he has his attention. “All ears.”

“I, um…I wanted to know if it was okay if I missed class next week? It’s just, I have somewhere important that I need to be and-“

“Harry,” Zayn smiles “you don’t have to ask. You’re not going to fail for missing one class, and you’re an adult, you can make your own choices. But I appreciate the heads up.”

“Oh. Okay. Great.” Harry rubs his hands over his jeans, trying to rid himself of his sweaty palms.

“Are you hungry?” Zayn asks, taking Harry aback. He’s already packing his things up, shoving his laptop into his bag and standing up, eyebrows high on his forehead as he waits for an answer.

“Um. Sure?”

“Come on,” Zayn beckons, nodding his head toward the door. “I’m starving and I rarely have company when I’m eating.”

Harry snorts to himself because he’s sure Zayn would have no problem finding someone to share a meal with. He’s smart, good looking, and has a sense of humor that has the entire class laughing at him when he cracks a joke, something else that Harry envies. His friends and family always tell him he has the sense of humor of a fifty year old dad.

“What’s so funny?” Zayn asks, holding the door to the cafeteria open for Harry.

“Nothing.”

“Come on.” Zayn elbows him playfully as they get in line. “Secrets don’t make friends.”

“I just don’t think you have any problem finding someone to eat with, is all,” Harry shrugs, grabbing a sandwich from the cooler as they pass. Now that they’re around food, he remembers that he hasn’t eaten since breakfast and that was a measly banana because they’d been running late. He’s suddenly starving.

“Meaning?”

“Meaning,” Harry sighs, taking a green juice out of the drink refrigerator, “I’m sure there’s a line of people who would love to share a meal with you.”

Zayn watches with a smile as Harry carefully picks out an apple, rolling it around in his hand, looking for any imperfections before he finds the right one. He’s this odd mixture of dorky and sexy and Zayn finds himself drawn to him, even if Harry’s not his usual type. Maybe that’s a good thing.

“No.” Harry grabs the package from Zayn’s hand, putting it back in the fridge without thinking twice. He’s too tired to even realize what he’s doing but before he can stop himself, he’s going back to the sandwich area and grabbing another turkey and cheese on rye before handing it to Zayn. “Here.”

“I didn’t want a sandwich though.”

“I don’t care, those are terrible for you. And you’re not three, adults don’t eat Lunchables.”

“This adult does,” Zayn argues without any bite. He’s more amused than anything as he takes the sandwich from Harry. “What’s the difference anyway? They’re both turkey and cheese.”

“The difference,” Harry tells him, handing Zayn an apple before he goes to get another juice “is that it’s fresh, they made it this morning, not in a factory a month ago. That crap is full of preservatives and additives and hormones. They get all the ingredients locally so it’s healthier.”

“Are you one of those health nuts?” Zayn asks, grabbing Harry’s wrist when he grabs another green juice. “I’m not drinking that.”

“But-“

“No.” Zayn reaches around him and grabs a soda, something with caffeine because he still has a lot of work to do and if he’s going to stare at his computer the rest of the night, he needs to stay awake. “I draw the line at anything green.”

“You sound like Sawyer,” Harry mutters, pulling his wallet out but Zayn stops him, nudging him out of the way with his hip so he can pay. His stomach does a little fluttery thing, the thing it does whenever he walks into Zayn’s class every Thursday morning. “You didn’t have to do that,” Harry tells him when they find a table and sit down.

“I asked you to come,” Zayn tells him, setting his bag down and tearing into the wrapping of his sandwich. “The school pays for it anyway, and I can count on one hand how many times I eat here during the semester. They can afford an extra sandwich.”

“Thank you,” Harry murmurs, opening his juice. He smiles around the opening as Zayn watches him drink with a grimace on his face. He licks his lips when he’s done, and he is definitely not hallucinating when he sees Zayn’s eyes tracking his tongue. “Want to try it?”

“God no.”

“Come on,” Harry laughs, holding the bottle toward him. “It tastes like green apples.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“Your loss,” Harry shrugs.

They eat in silence for a few minutes, chewing quietly while they both check their phones. Harry’s mom texted him during class, asking if she could have Sawyer the following weekend. There’s some fall festival she wants to take him to, and she tells him he’s invited as well but figured maybe he wouldn’t mind a couple days to himself. As much as he loves his kid with everything in him, she’s exactly right.

He’s just texting her back that next weekend is a go when Zayn asks “Whose Sawyer?”

Harry waits to answer, finishing the mouthful of sandwich before washing it down with more juice. He wipes his mouth with his napkin, dropping it into his lap before he looks up at Zayn.

“My son.”

Zayn’s eyebrows shoot up in surprise and he knows he’s staring. Harry starts to fidget, his fingers playing with the plastic wrapping from his sandwich, suddenly uncomfortable. It’s not that he’s embarrassed that he has a kid, because he’s not. Sawyer is the best fucking thing to ever happen to him and his best friend. But he gets this reaction a lot from people he likes, and he does like Zayn, more than he probably should considering he’s his teacher, and he’s a little disappointed in his reaction. He was hoping Zayn wasn’t one of those guys who gets bothered by a kid, but maybe Harry got it wrong. _Maybe Zayn’s not interested in being with someone that has a child. Not that we’re together, because we’re not_ , Harry thinks to himself. He adds a _yet_ to the end of that statement because in his head, he’s allowed to think that. He’s allowed to dream.

“How old is he?”

“What?” Harry looks up at Zayn, and he doesn’t look like he’s going to run. He looks maybe a little confused, a bit surprised, but he doesn’t look scared. Harry’s pulse picks up pace.

“Sawyer,” Zayn urges on, picking up his apple. “How old is he?” He takes a bite and chews quietly, waiting for Harry to answer him.

“He’s six. Well, six and a half,” he quietly laughs. “He gets mad if I forget that part.” Zayn smiles as he takes another bite, looking at Harry like maybe he wants him to go on, like he wants to know more. “He’s um, he’s in the first grade. That’s actually why I won’t be in class next week. He’s got a field trip to the planetarium and he asked me to go.”

“I always loved going there.”

“Yeah,” Harry breathes, trying to ease his nerves. “I think the last time I went to one was like fifteen years ago, so I thought it’d be fun to go.”

“Sounds fun,” Zayn agrees, twisting open his soda. “Let me know how it goes, yeah?”

“Yeah,” Harry nods, smiling down at his tray. He doesn’t even care that he’s blushing and by the way Zayn laughs at him and bumps their feet together, Harry knows he sees.

\---

_Well??? How was it?_

Harry smiles down at his phone, wincing as his shoulder hits the wall of the bus as they take a corner. They’re on their way back to Sawyer’s school, having gone to the planetarium and had a picnic lunch in the courtyard outside afterwards, all of the kids excitedly yelling out their favorite parts as Niall asked questions while they ate.

**It was awesome. Just like I remembered, except with more potty breaks.**

_Haha. That’s great, H, glad you had a good time._ Harry tries not to swoon at the nickname.

**Thanks. How was class? Did I miss anything?**

_Nah, nothing exciting. It’s surprisingly boring without you here to trip up the stairs. I emailed you the lesson plan in case you wanted to look it over._

**RUDE! I don’t trip every time!...and thank you.**

_You really do, babe. And you’re welcome._

Harry stares at the text for far too long before he shoves his phone into his pocket before he says something completely embarrassing, like how Zayn should call him babe every day for the rest of his life. _Fuck_ , he thinks to himself. _Next Thursday can’t come soon enough._

\---

“Brother bear!” Gemma cheers, hugging Harry once he opens the door. As soon as she’d heard that their parents were taking Sawyer for the weekend, she’d insisted that they go out for dinner and drinks. Harry had thought about protesting but he didn’t really have a reason to. One adult night out every once in a while couldn’t hurt. “We have reservations at _Red Eye_ for seven so hurry up.” Harry’s eyes widen at that, watching her kick off her heels and walk toward the kitchen.

“I can’t afford that place, Gem.”

“My treat, don’t worry.” She pulls the fridge open, obviously looking for something to pregame with but Harry doesn’t normally keep alcohol in the house. “Is that what you’re wearing?”

“What?” Harry looks down at himself with a frown. “What’s wrong with what I’m wearing?”

“Nothing. Just wondering if you’re ready or if you needed to change.”

“Which is your not-so-subtle way of telling me that I need to change.”

“No,” Gemma laughs, patting his arm as she heads back toward the front door. “You look good, I swear. I wouldn’t let you out of the house if you didn’t. I’m sure people will be flocking toward you all night.”

“I hope not,” Harry laughs, bending down to pull his boots on. He looks himself over in the mirror, ruffling his hair and fixing his shirt. He’s just in a pair of black skinnies and a black button down with the sleeves rolled to his elbows. Casual but fancy enough when he pairs it with his shiny black boots. He thinks he looks good but he’s not trying to attract anyone. He’s a dad, he’s not interested in hooking up with bar flies.

“You hope not?” Gemma leans against the door and waits while Harry fixes himself. “And why not? You’re twenty-five, single and gorgeous. When’s the last time you got laid?”

“Gemma!”

“What?” she shrugs. “You have a child, I know you’re not a virgin.”

“That does not mean I’m talking to you about my personal life, whether I have one or not.”

“You need to get out there, H. It’s been too long since-“

“I know how long it’s been,” Harry snaps, his eyes narrowing. He knows Gemma means well but she’s not making him feel any better. “No need to rub it in.”

“I wasn’t. I just meant that you’ve been alone for too long, you know? All you think about is Sawyer-“

“That’s my job!”

“Yes it is, and you’ve done an amazing job, Harry, you really have, but you can’t ignore yourself. You need to be happy, too. You need to be happy for yourself _and_ for Sawyer. It’s not fair that you’re alone just because you won’t put yourself out there.”

“I did put myself out there,” he reminds her. “Look how well that turned out.”

“Liam was an asshole and you know it. Kid or no kid, he never would have committed to you.”

“Thanks,” Harry snorts, knowing she’s right but not appreciating her delivery. It’s been almost three years and he’s still not over it. Not Liam himself, because he wasn’t that great, but the situation. Being told that you’ve got too much baggage isn’t something a twenty-two year old single parent gets over easily. “Can we not do this tonight, please? I need to grab my phone.”

Harry takes the stairs two at a time and closes his bedroom door behind him. His phone’s in his pocket, which Gemma’s probably aware of, but he needs a second alone, to cool down. She’s always been protective of him, especially since Sawyer came along. He was nineteen when a kid was dumped in his lap and Gemma helped shoulder the burden until he got his feet on the ground. She taught him so much, about how to be a role model and how to parent because she’d helped their mum raise him after their dad left. He loves her with his whole heart but he won’t be pushed.

“Ready?” Gemma asks, a sweet smile on her face when he comes back downstairs. She’s texting but shoves her phone in her clutch when he comes down, and loops her arm with his. “I called an Uber so we can get shitfaced. Grab a jacket, it’s chilly out.”

“Okay Mom,” Harry laughs, pulling on a coat and following her out the door.

\---

It’s not often that Harry goes out, so he’s not great at picking places, especially in a new city, so he leaves the bar choice up to Gem. He watches the city fly by as they drive to their destination, Gemma talking to one of her girlfriends who is apparently meeting them out. She asked if he minded and he said no, it was fine, because if someone else is there, maybe Gemma won’t concentrate so hard on trying to find someone for him to hook-up with.

“Is a sports bar okay?” she asks, holding the phone away from her mouth. “Kate’s already there and she said the place is crawling with guys. There’s some MMA fight on or something.”

“Sure,” Harry shrugs, looking back out the window. He doesn’t really care where they go, as long as there’s alcohol, which Kate assures them there is.

They pull into a place called TKO, which Harry doesn’t understand the name of, but he hands his ID to the bouncer and thanks Gemma when she pays the cover fee.

Kate’s at the bar already, waiving them over with two beers ready to go, handing them each one. He recognizes her now from one of Gemma’s parties last year and she was nice enough from what he remembers, so he hangs his coat over the back of Gemma’s stool, insisting he stand and she sit, and enjoys his beer while he watches the fight.

Gemma orders them shots of Jäger and Harry winces as it goes down. He hasn’t had it since his sophomore year in college, before Sawyer came along and he took a five year sabbatical from school. He can’t say he’s missed it as he chugs his beer to chase away the taste.

“Bathroom!” Gemma tells him when she gets up, and Harry slips into her seat while she’s away, flagging the bartender down for another beer and a mixer for both Gemma and Kate who is busy talking to a guy next to her but pats Harry’s hand in thanks when he slides the drink in front of her. He sees Gemma coming back and she looks a little annoyed, which puts Harry’s back up. She may be older but he’s just as protective.

“You good?” he asks, taking her elbow as she slides into her seat.

“I got hit on by a leprechaun.”

“A what?”

Before she can answer him, Harry feels someone slam into his back and arms wrapping around his waist, nearly knocking the wind out of him. When he gets himself free and turns around, his mouth drops open.

“Harry!” Niall cheers, pulling him into a hug. He smells like beer and smoke and something spicy, like wing sauce, and Harry has to extract himself before the smell gets to him. “I’m so happy you’re here! What are you doing here?”

“You know this idiot?” Gemma asks, looking around Harry and glaring at Niall.

“You know him?” Harry asks her the same time Niall says “You know her?”

“He’s the leprechaun,” Gemma sneers, picking up her vodka cran. “Nearly barreled over me when I came out of the bathroom.”

“I said I was sorry!” Niall cries, looking about four years old and clearly intoxicated. “I offered to buy you a drink.”

“And I politely declined, so why don’t you...” Gemma waves her hand away from them and Harry feels a little bad for Niall because he knows how she gets when she isn’t into someone, and it sounds like he was just trying to be nice.

“Niall, this is my sister Gemma. Gemma.” Harry waits until she looks up at him. “This is Sawyer’s teacher, Niall.”

“Your sister?”

“ _That’s_ Sawyer’s teacher?” Gemma accuses. “I can’t believe you let this idiot near your son.”

“Hey! I’m not an idiot!”

“He’s really not,” Harry agrees.

“Just because I get drunk once in a while, outside of school, doesn’t mean I’m a bad person,” Niall defends. He looks a bit sad and Harry kind of wants to hug him because he really is one of the nicest guys Harry’s ever met. “And I’m a fucking _amazing_ teacher, thank you very much. Harry,” he nods before he turns and walks away, disappearing into the crowd.

“That was rude.”

Gemma shrugs her shoulders and takes a sip of her drink, looking over Harry’s shoulder. Her lips curve up slowly, making her look like the Cheshire Cat come to life, and Harry’s suddenly terrified of whatever she’s thinking.

“His friend is fucking hot,” she murmurs, sending a flirty smile behind Harry. He hates that look because it means she’s on the prowl and he really doesn’t want to witness that. “Oh shit, he’s coming over here. How do I look?” She sets her drink down and fluffs her hair, running her tongue across her teeth before looking up at him.

“You look fine.”

“Fine?” Gemma scoffs. “I don’t want-“

“Harry?”

He knows that voice. He doesn’t need to turn around to know who it is, or whose hand is on his hip, urging him to turn around. That doesn’t make it any less surprising when he sees Zayn standing behind him, smiling at him with pure excitement on his face.

“Zayn.”

“Hey.” Zayn pulls him into a hug, giving him a tight squeeze before stepping back, his hands lingering on Harry’s hips for a second before they drop down to his sides. “What’re you doing here?”

“I’m…my sister,” he tells him, thumbing over his shoulder. “She wanted to go out.”

“Hi,” Zayn says, leaning around Harry and holding his hand out for Gemma. He has to rest his other hand on Harry’s hip to steady himself so he doesn’t topple over, and Harry’s pretty sure he stops breathing for a second. “I’m Zayn, a friend of Harry’s.”

“Gemma,” she purrs, and Harry actually looks at her over his shoulder and frowns because no, she doesn’t get to flirt with him. “Do you want a drink?”

Harry opens his mouth to say something but Zayn beats him to it, pulling his hand back from Gemma but leaving the other on Harry’s hip. He nearly preens when he sees Gemma look down at it.

“I’ve actually got one, but thank you.” He turns his attention back to Harry, his smile widening until his tongue presses against his teeth and Harry just wants to devour him already. “Do you want to join us? We’ve got a few chairs left at our table.”

“I-“

“Yes,” Gemma answers for them both, grabbing her drink. She tosses Harry’s coat at him and tells Kate they’re moving to a table so she doesn’t think she’s being ditched. When Zayn turns to lead them to the table, Harry catches Gemma’s arm and leans down to warn her off.

“You can’t-“

“Duh,” Gemma laughs, rolling her eyes. “He was practically undressing you with his eyes, I’m not blind. Don’t worry, baby bro.” She pats his cheek and scoots around him, following Zayn through the crowd, leaving Harry with no choice but to follow.

Gemma stops in her tracks, causing Harry to bump into her. He’s about to ask her what the problem is when he sees Niall sitting at the same table Zayn stops at. He wasn’t aware that they were friends. Before Gemma can say a word, Harry turns her around and drops his hands on her shoulder, leaning down until their forehead are nearly touching.

“How many times have I wingman-ed for you?”

“But-“

“How many?” Harry repeats. Gemma sighs, sagging into him until her head bumps his shoulder.

“You owe me,” she mumbles into his shirt before pulling away and giving him a dirty look. Harry watches her take a seat as far from Niall as possible and laughs to himself at how stubborn she is.

Zayn’s looking at him a little confusedly but he’s also got a chair waiting for Harry next to him which is definitely a good thing.

“You okay?” Zayn asks, leaning into Harry so he can talk into his ear. Harry nods, feeling Zayn’s scruff brush his cheek and he is absolutely going to die by the end of the night. _Spontaneous combustion is a thing, right?_ he thinks as he gets a whiff of Zayn’s cologne. He’s a goner.

\---

Turns out Gemma actually likes Niall, once she has a couple more drinks and sees him interacting with other people. Harry’s not necessarily comfortable with the looks they’re giving each other across the table and he almost stops them when they both get up to go to the bathroom at the same time, but Zayn puts a hand on his knee and laughs at him.

“She’s fine, I promise. Niall’s a gentleman through and through.”

“I’m more worried for him,” Harry admits and Zayn laughs heartily, like it’s the funniest thing he’s ever heard, and it makes Harry beam seeing him smile that hard just from something he said. “It’s just, he’s Sawyer’s teacher, you know? Could make things awkward if something goes bad.”

“I’m _your_ teacher,” Zayn points out. “You don’t seem worried about that.”

“That’s different though,” Harry explains, stirring the ice in his watered down old fashioned. “Only for two more months, and that doesn’t have anything to do with my kid. And like.” He looks down at Zayn’s hand still on his leg, thumb rubbing back and forth over his jeans. “We’re not, like. We’re not.”

“Come outside with me,” Zayn says after a beat.

“What?” Harry looks up at Zayn when he stands and hands him his coat.

“I need a smoke, come with me.”

Harry follows even though he doesn’t really like smoking. He tried cigarettes once his freshman year in college and nearly coughed up a lung. He only did it because Louis was doing it and Louis was the cool kid and Harry wanted to be cool. Louis had just laughed at him and put an arm around his neck, whispering in his ear to be a leader, not a follower, not to play into anyone else. Harry really misses him sometimes. He makes a mental note to call and see how he and Eleanor are doing.

Zayn walks around the corner of the building so they aren’t right under the lights, and Harry watches him pull a pack of cigarettes from his jacket pocket and put one in his mouth. The light from the lighter flickers over his face and Harry doesn’t even care if he’s staring. Zayn’s beautiful and he’s allowed to look if he wants.

Zayn tips his head back against the brick wall, exhaling smoke and watching it float away above his head. His stomach is in knots and honestly, he’s not sure if he could do this if he hadn’t already had a couple of drinks.

“The last guy I dated told me I was fun to fuck around with but I wasn’t good enough to take home to his mom.”

Harry frowns as he listens to Zayn. He’s not sure why he’s telling him this, but it must be important if Zayn’s sharing it with him, because Zayn hasn’t shared a whole lot with him. So Harry doesn’t say anything, doesn’t move, just listens.

“We were together for a year before he told me that.” Zayn laughs quietly but there’s no humor in it. “So when I meet someone that I could like, I don’t always put it out there, you know? It’s scary, letting someone in when they could push you right back out.” Harry nods because he gets it. Between Sawyer’s mom and Liam, he really gets it. “So.” Zayn takes a last, long drag before he flicks the cigarette away and stuffs his hands in his pockets, turning his attention on Harry. “This is me, putting it out there. This is me telling you that I like you and that I think I could be good for you, if you let me. And, if we ever got to that point, I wouldn’t ever do anything to embarrass you in front of your family. Like.” He shrugs his shoulders and sniffles a little and Harry wants to actually cry. “I’m just me, you know?”

“I like just you,” Harry tells him after letting everything sink in for a minute. Zayn’s looking at him, really looking, like he’s trying to see if he’s being honest. So Harry takes a deep breath and decides to let Zayn in, because it feels right. “The last guy I dated, three years ago mind you, waited eight months before he decided being with a single dad wasn’t worth the hassle. I let him into our lives, I let him meet my kid thinking maybe we’d fit, and he walked out without a second thought.”

“I wouldn’t,” Zayn shakes his head.

“The person before that was Sawyer’s mom, and that was one night. Literally _one_ night, and I never saw her again. Her best friend showed up ten months later with a baby, a diaper bag and a stack of papers and told me to deal with it. So I get it, Zayn. I know what it feels like to not be enough.”

Neither one of them know what to say, so they just stand in the quiet, listening to people stumble in and out of the bar, letting their confessions sink in. When Zayn feels like it’s been long enough, he beckons Harry over, holding a hand out to him.

“Please,” he whispers, and Harry couldn’t say no to him.

He walks until he’s close enough for Zayn to take his hand and tug him in, until they’re pressed together, Zayn’s back against the wall and his hands running up and down Harry’s sides under his coat, Harry’s hands circling his neck and tucking into his hair.

“I wouldn’t walk,” Zayn tells him, keeping his voice quiet because the mood is serious and they’re so close he can’t help but whisper. “I know Sawyer is your priority, I wouldn’t ever expect anything different. And if I ever got to meet him, after time, after you were sure, I wouldn’t walk. Not because of him. Not unless you asked me to.”

“You wouldn’t embarrass me,” Harry whispers, his breath catching when Zayn tips his head back and their lips brush ever so slightly. “You’re exactly the type of person I’d want to take home. I could never be ashamed of you.”

Zayn kisses him then, like he’s wanted to since Harry dumped coffee all over him nearly three months ago. Like he’s wanted to every day since, whether he sees Harry on campus or in class or when he’s sitting at home thinking about him, because that’s a thing, Zayn thinking about Harry, a lot.

Harry kisses back, because he’s sure of Zayn. He’s sure that he wants this, that he sees it going somewhere and that maybe nothing worked with anyone before because it wasn’t supposed to. He’s always been a firm believer in fate, and maybe this is his.

It’s too early to tell, but he really hopes it is. All he knows is that this feels right. There’s no hesitation, not with Zayn, and that’s how Harry knows he’s ready. Ready to give, ready to take, ready to try. And when Zayn smiles into his mouth, their teeth catching enough to make them both laugh and hold on a little tighter, he knows Zayn’s ready too.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Zayn Meets Sawyer...

 

“I don’t feel well.”

“Hmm?” Harry’s standing in front of the mirror in his room, trying to get his hair to stay the way he wants but of course that’s not happening, not when he really needs it, when he wants to look his best for such an important event.

“I said I don’t feel well. I think maybe I should hang back, go to bed early.”

Harry looks at Zayn’s reflection, catches the way he’s sunk down on the bed, playing with his fingernails. If it weren’t for the tattoos and the nose ring, he’d look like a child, pouting in the middle of Harry’s bed, pretending to have a stomach ache to get out of school. But Zayn isn’t sick, and this isn’t a test he didn’t study for. This is important, he can’t back out now.

“Babe.” Harry turns from the mirror and walks to the bed, crawling over the duvet until he’s hovered over Zayn. He still won’t look at Harry, just keeps toying with his fingers until Harry grabs both of his hands and laces their fingers together. “Look at me. Zaaaaayn,” he singsongs, leaning down to nudge Zayn’s nose with his. It gets a little smile out Zayn, which makes Harry smile. “Nervous?”

“No,” Zayn grunts, squirming under Harry until he’s more comfortable. He’s playing with Harry’s fingers now, long and slender and soft. He loves Harry’s hands. Holding them, kissing them, feeling them all over his body. He’s pretty sure he loves everything about Harry, and that’s terrifying. “I really don’t feel good.”

“Could it be,” Harry leans in and presses his mouth to Zayn’s, soft but sure “that you don’t feel well because tonight’s a big night? That maybe you’re working yourself up-”

“No,” Zayn snaps, trying to pry his hands free but Harry just tightens his grip and drops more of his weight so he’s pinning Zayn to the mattress. He’s not letting him out of this bed, not until he settles Zayn down. “I don’t feel well, Harry. It’s not that fucking hard to understand.”

Under normal circumstances, this is where Harry would back off. He knows he can be pushy and clingy, that he’s usually the more invested one when it comes to relationships, that he needs lots of attention and can be a handful. But Harry knows Zayn. They’ve been doing this for close to three months, the being together thing, and he knows how Zayn thinks. He told Harry once, when they first started this, how he’s sometimes afraid to meet new people, that he thinks he’ll make a bad impression and they won’t like him. And they both know there’s a lot riding on tonight, so no, Harry doesn’t believe him.

“Look at me. Babe.” Harry gives Zayn’s hands a firm squeeze and waits until Zayn looks up at him. He kisses him again, because he’s right there and he looks so sad and Harry hates seeing him like that. “Tonight’s going to be perfect.” When Zayn opens his mouth to interrupt, Harry kisses him again, a little firmer, so Zayn knows he’s serious. “Tonight will be perfect,” he repeats. “We’ll go to dinner, just like we planned. You’ll meet my family and we’ll have a nice meal and we’ll come back here and crawl into bed together and everything will be fine.”

“What…” Zayn gnaws on the corner of his lip, a nervous tick Harry’s picked up on, but instead of pulling Zayn’s lip free and kissing him again, Harry gives him a second to work through what he wants to say. Harry wants Zayn to tell him, out loud, why he’s nervous. Because then Harry can laugh and kiss him and tell him how wrong he is. “What if, like…I’m a lot, you know? The tattoos and piercings and the…you know, the Muslim thing. Like…it’s a lot, and I-“

“They know you’re Muslim,” Harry interrupts because he hates this. He’s pissed now, because he hates how Zayn feels like he needs to hide who he is, what he believes, because some assholes out there might not understand. And he hates that Zayn thinks his family is anything like that. They are _nothing_ like that. “I told them you’re Muslim and they don’t care. Well, they _care_ , but not the way you think. They care because they care about you, because _I_ care about you. Whatever God you do or don’t believe in doesn’t matter to them. What they care about is the type of person you are, how you treat others, how you treat _me_. And they know how good you are to me because I won’t shut the hell up about you.” That gets a little smile out of Zayn, and Harry lets out a breath of relief. “And I’ve shown them pictures before, dozens and dozens of pictures. Ones we took together, ones I took of you, ones I stole from your Facebook page so they could see how much you love your family. My mom said you might be one of the most attractive men she’s ever seen, and even Robin agreed. Babe,” Harry whispers, resting his brow against Zayn’s, going a bit crossed-eyed as he tries to keep Zayn’s gaze. “They adore you already. _Nothing_ is going to change that.”

Zayn nods his head, their noses knocking together, and he gives Harry a little kiss, a hesitant one, because Harry’s parents aren’t what’s worrying him, _really_ worrying him. He knows Harry’s parents are good people, they’d have to be to raise someone like Harry. He’s heard so many stories he feels like he already knows them, and honestly, he could handle it if they didn’t like him. He knows how to win people over, he’s had to do it more times than he’d like to admit. He could handle that. What he doesn’t think he could handle is if Harry’s son doesn’t like him.

“What about Sawyer?” he whispers, eyeing the sparrows on Harry’s chest. His shirt’s gaping open at the collar the way Zayn likes, even if he teases Harry about it relentlessly. He’d run his fingertips over the ink there if Harry would let his hands go.

“What about him?” Harry asks, even if he already knows the answer. He’d seen the hesitation on Zayn’s face when he’d suggested they meet. He could tell Zayn wasn’t altogether comfortable with the idea, but he’d given him a few weeks to warm up to it, hoping Zayn would be okay when the time finally came. Now that they’re an hour away from meeting his family at the restaurant, Harry knows Zayn’s panicking.

“You _know_ what,” Zayn sighs, rolling his eyes just like Harry does. He knows Harry’s not stupid, he knows what Zayn means, he just wants him to say it out loud because he doesn’t like when Zayn keeps things to himself. Zayn knows Harry just as well as Harry knows him. “What if Sawyer doesn’t like me?” Zayn voices his concern. “What if he thinks I’m scary or mean or that I’m, like, trying to take his dad away?”

“Zayn-“

“Those are all legitimate worries for me to have, Haz, you can’t tell me they’re not. What am I supposed to do it he hates me?” Harry feels it like a punch in the gut, the way Zayn’s voice wavers and his eyes glint in fear. He’s not just being a pain in the ass, he’s actually scared.

“Baby, listen to me.” Harry let’s go of one of Zayn’s hand, using it to brush the hair away from Zayn’s face as he begs him to take deep breaths. He didn’t think Zayn worried this much, that Zayn was this afraid of his almost seven year old, enough to nearly hyperventilate.

Truth be told, Harry’s nervous too. It’s not that he doesn’t think Sawyer will like Zayn, he knows he will. He talks about Zayn all the time, shows Sawyer pictures, explains who Zayn is and what he means to Harry. He doesn’t ever want to have secrets from his child, especially when it comes to Zayn, and Sawyer seems to have taken a liking to him, even though they haven’t actually met. He asks Harry questions about him, like where he’s from and what he does for a job and Sawyer had been so excited when Harry told him that Zayn was a teacher and friends with Mr. Horan. But…Harry’s nervous too. Because if something goes wrong, if it turns out that Sawyer _doesn’t_ like Zayn, Harry doesn’t know what he’ll do either. He doesn’t want to let this go, not when things have been so good. 

“I can’t promise you that it’ll be smooth sailing. I can’t tell you what’s going to happen tonight when you meet. All I can do is promise that I’ll do everything I can to make sure that everyone’s comfortable, that no one feels left out. Hey,” he whispers, knuckling Zayn’s chin. When he looks up, Harry shakes his head in disbelief, still not quite certain how he got so lucky. “He’s _so_ excited to meet you. And I know, deep down, you’re excited to meet him too.”

“Of course I am,” Zayn pouts, lifting his free hand to rub his eye. “He’s a mini you, of course I can’t wait.”

“Then let’s go.” Harry kisses him over and over, first his top lip, then the bottom, then both as he makes smacking noises, letting them get louder and louder, humming with each press of his lips until Zayn’s laughing and Harry’s kissing more teeth than anything else. “Hey.” Harry kisses him again, a serious one, no laughter in his voice. They haven’t been saying it for very long but he means it with every fiber of his being. “I love you.”

“I know,” Zayn nods, gripping the back of Harry’s neck and holding him close, their temples pressed together as they breathe each other in. “I love you too.”

\---

Sawyer sees them first, breaking free of Robin’s hold and racing across the lobby until he can throw himself at his dad.

Harry picks him up, squeezes him tight and kisses his hair and his cheeks and his forehead, whispering how much he missed him and asking him how his sleepover with Nana and Papa was. Zayn stands back, watching them, taking in the Styles boys together for the first time. They’re a sight to behold, the way their hair nearly tangles into one big mess of curls and the way they talk over each other but never seem to miss a word, like they have their own scrambled language. Zayn hopes that one day, maybe, he can be a part of that. He looks away after a minute, to give them some privacy, to hug and kiss and whisper without an audience.

“Yes that’s him,” Zayn hears Harry laugh, and he looks up to see both Sawyer and Harry watching him, identical smiles on their faces, one a little shier than the other but nonetheless gorgeous. He really is a mini version of Harry. “Would you like to meet him?”

Zayn sees Sawyer nod against Harry’s shoulder where he’s stuck his head, suddenly shy now that Zayn’s attention is on him. Harry takes a few steps closer, his smile so huge that Zayn can’t help but emulate it.

“Sawyer.” Harry waits until he sits up in his arms, until he has his full attention. “This is Zayn. Zayn.” When he smiles at him, Zayn knows he can do this. That having Zayn and his son together makes Harry happy, and Zayn will do anything to keep him happy. That’s all he wants. “This is my son, Sawyer.”

“Hi,” Zayn whispers, clearing his throat before he takes a step closer. He holds his hand out, not sure what proper protocol is when meeting a six year old, but Sawyer doesn’t look like he’s quite ready for a hug so he figures a hand shake is a safe bet. “It’s really nice to meet you.”

“Hi.” Sawyer reaches for Zayn’s hand, gives it a quick shake, just long enough to be polite before he puts his hand back on Harry’s shoulder. “You’re friends with Mr. Horan.”

“I am.”

“He says you’re real nice,” Sawyer nods, all business. “And that you’d buy me ice cream whenever I want.”

“Did he?” Zayn asks, smiling as Harry laughs into Sawyer’s sweater. Zayn’s not surprised Niall said that, not in the least. He knew how nervous Zayn was about meeting Harry’s kid. This is his way of helping Zayn get on Sawyer’s good graces, and if it actually helps, Zayn’s all for it. “If your dad says it’s okay, we can go for ice cream whenever you want.”

“Daddy likes frozen yogurt.” Sawyer rolls his eyes like it’s the most ridiculous thing on earth and Harry and Zayn both laugh. Zayn can’t get over how much Sawyer looks like Harry, and now that he sees their mannerisms are similar too, he’s hooked.

“I’ll make you a deal.” Sawyer leans forward earnestly, Harry tightening his grip on him so he doesn’t drop him. “How about we take turns? One time we go for ice cream, the next time we go for frozen yogurt. That way you and Daddy are both happy.”

“What about you?” Sawyer blinks at him and Zayn sees Harry, sees the way Sawyer worries about Zayn’s feelings just like Harry worries about everyone else, and after only meeting him thirty seconds ago. His heart physically aches with affection.

“If you and Daddy are happy,” Zayn tells him, ruffling Sawyer’s hair to lighten the mood, “I’m happy.”

\---

Harry stays close to Zayn the rest of the night, rubbing his thigh under the table, kissing his cheek between bites, constantly whispering in Zayn’s ear how much he loves him, how much his family likes Zayn already, and how he can’t wait to go home, just him and his boys.

Zayn can’t help but nod along, no longer worried about what’s to come. It’s not always going to be rainbows and sunshine, they both understand that. But as long as they communicate, as long as they don’t shut each other out and try every day to be the best versions of themselves, they’ll be okay. The three of them, they’ll be okay, because they have each other.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope this answers some of the questions I've been getting! xx
> 
> [tumblr](http://inkoasis.tumblr.com)


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A time to trust...

Zayn can feel someone watching him before he even wakes up. He knows it’s not Harry, knows what it feels like to have Harry’s gaze on him and this isn’t it. He moves his legs a bit, to get the blood flowing, and stretches along the couch, wincing when he feels a spring dig into his ribs.

Sawyer’s sitting on the coffee table staring at him, his fingers fiddling with the frayed edges of his blanket, still in his Iron Man pajamas that Zayn had gotten him for his birthday. He’s got a frown on his face and startles a little when he sees Zayn looking back at him.

“Morning,” Zayn croaks, pushing the throw blanket off of his shoulders. He looks around the living room, listens for any sign of Harry but there isn’t any. “You okay?”

“Had to go to the bathroom,” Sawyer shrugs. That still doesn’t explain what he’s doing downstairs at-- Zayn looks at the clock and winces-- five thirteen in the morning. There’s a bathroom down the hall between Harry and Sawyer’s rooms, there’s no reason for him to be downstairs.

“You hungry?” Zayn asks, pushing to sit up. He’d had a hell of a time falling asleep, and he knows he’s not going to get any more, so he might as well get up and be productive. Sawyer shrugs again but he also gets up and heads for the kitchen so Zayn figures that’s a yes. He tosses the blanket over the back of the couch and takes a fleeting look at the stairs as he goes, feeling the irritation from the night before lingering as he thinks about the man upstairs. “What’ll it be?” Zayn asks, pulling the pantry open. “Cereal? Oatmeal? I can make pancakes if you want.”

“Cereal.”

“My cereal or Dad’s cereal?” Zayn asks, wiggling his brows as he looks over his shoulder at Sawyer. He doesn’t have to answer, just gives Zayn a gap-toothed smile that says it all.

Sawyer stays silent as Zayn pours them both a bowl of Cap’n Crunch, giving a quiet thank you as Zayn slides the bowl across the counter toward him. Zayn watches for a minute, the way Sawyer pushes the cereal around before taking a small bite. Normally when Zayn gives him the good stuff, he eats with gusto, barely taking a breath between bites to the point where Zayn’s worried he’ll choke.

“Something wrong?” he asks, taking a bite of his own cereal. “Come on, Soy Sauce. You shrug anymore and your shoulders will stick to your ears.”

“Why were you on the couch?”

Zayn’s not expecting that. He thought maybe Sawyer had a bad dream, he gets those sometimes. Zayn’s woken up on more than one occasion with Harry shuffling closer to him to make room for Sawyer on the edge of the bed. Then Sawyer had figured out that Zayn liked to cuddle too, so he stopped waking Harry altogether and just crawled up the middle of the bed, tucking himself in between them, pressing his back to whatever part of Zayn was facing him. Zayn almost cried the first time it happened, when he’d waited for Sawyer to settle before he reached out and patted his shoulder, letting him know he was okay, that he was safe. Sawyer had grabbed Zayn’s hand and pulled it around him, pressing Zayn’s hand over his heart and falling back asleep before Zayn could catch his breath. That was the night Zayn fell in love with Sawyer.

“I-“ Zayn knows he shouldn’t lie. Sawyer trusts him, and Zayn’s done everything he can to earn that trust, and he doesn’t want to ruin that. But Sawyer’s also seven and there are some things he doesn’t need to know about, like how he and Harry had argued the night before, resulting in Zayn sleeping on the couch.

_“Hi,” Harry whispered, smiling up from the couch as Zayn came through the front door. Sawyer was already in bed, exhausted from the birthday party they’d gone to at the trampoline park, and Harry held a finger to his lips to shush Zayn so they wouldn’t wake him._

_“Hi,” Zayn whispered, leaning down to kiss him hello. Harry winced when he smelled, and tasted, the whiskey on Zayn’s breath, watching him as he clumsily moved around the coffee table before collapsing onto the couch next to Harry. “How was the party?”_

_“Good,” Harry replied, lifting his arm when Zayn leaned into him. “How’s Niall?”_

_“Good. Ran into some old friends so we went for drinks.”_

_“Anyone I know?” Harry asked, running his hand through Zayn’s hair. He missed Zayn’s  longer locks, fingering the shorter strands still stiff with product as Zayn yawned._

_“Heather, one of our classmates from college, and her boyfriend Todd. We ended up at Rumors,” Zayn laughed, shaking his head. He and Niall had spent half of their paychecks there when they were working their way through college, going every Tuesday and Thursday for two-for-one margaritas and most Saturdays because it was ladies’ night and Niall needed a wingman. “Ran into Gavin, which was weird because I haven’t seen him there in years and-“_

_“Gavin? Like your ex, Gavin?”_

_“Yeah,” Zayn had shrugged, focusing on the rerun of Fixer Upper that Harry had on, unaware of how his boyfriend was staring at him in disbelief. “I think Niall wanted to punch him the second he sat at our table.”_

_“He sat with you?”_

_“Yeah.” Zayn looked up at Harry and laughed at the look on his face. “Just for a minute, babe, relax.”_

_“Relax,” Harry huffed, moving his arm and shifting off of the couch. Zayn flopped onto his side, groaning into the cushion as he pushed himself back up. Harry was staring down at him, hands on his hips and a very unhappy look on his face. It only made Zayn laugh harder. “I don’t think it’s funny, Zayn.”_

_“Babe-“_

_“Don’t_ babe _me,” Harry snapped, keeping his voice low. “I don’t think it’s fucking funny that you were having drinks with your ex and then coming home to me smelling like a distillery and another man.”_

_“Another-“ Zayn’s brow pinched together as he lifted the collar of his shirt and took a sniff. If Zayn were sober, he wouldn’t have laughed. But he wasn’t, and had to muffle his cackle with his hand. “That’s Niall, Haz, come on. He was basically asleep on me in the cab.”_

_“Oh,” Harry huffed, feeling himself getting more worked up by the second. “So_ Gavin _didn’t give you a ride home?”_

_Harry had watched the smile slide from Zayn’s face, watched Zayn realize how furious he actually was, and felt his ego swell, knowing that Zayn knew he fucked up. But Zayn didn’t placate him like Harry thought he would. He didn’t try to reach for him, coddle him or reassure him, just stared at Harry with blank eyes, and that scared Harry. They hadn’t fought much in the eight months they’d been dating but they both already knew this wasn’t going to be a normal argument. This was going to hurt._

_“He offered,” Zayn told him, smirking as Harry took a step back, like Zayn had physically swiped at him. “That what you wanted to hear, babe? That he wanted to take me home with him? That he wanted to-“_

_“Stop it,” Harry whispered, shaking his head. It was like Zayn was getting some sick satisfaction from hurting him. They could both be petty when they were angry but he never thought that Zayn could be malicious._

_“You’re a fucking idiot, you know that?”_

_“Me?” Harry gasped, taking another step back, pointing at his chest. “How-“_

_“You think I’d ever cheat on you,_ especially _with that asshole? Do you not know me at all?”_

_“You just said-“_

_“I just said that he sat down by us, not that we invited him. I said he offered to take me home, not that I was interested.” Zayn pushes himself to his feet and stalks to the kitchen, looking for water. “I wouldn’t jeopardize what we have for that asshole,” he said over his shoulder as he filled a glass. He turned to face Harry, leaning back against the counter as he gulped half of the glass. “Or anyone for that matter. If I want to fuck someone, it’s going to be you.”_

_“Don’t turn this on me,” Harry snapped, stepping into the room. “You didn’t need to tell me about Gavin, you’re just trying to-“_

_“To be honest with you,” Zayn interrupts, dropping the glass into the sink carelessly. “Would you have rather I lied and not told you he was there? So that when Niall and his big mouth eventually bring it up you can hold that over my head, that I kept it from you?”_

_Zayn rolled his eyes as he pushed past Harry and headed upstairs. He should have just gone home, stayed at his own place, but no, he_ had _to see Harry,_ had _to miss Harry, and this is what he gets for it._

_Harry walked into the room just as Zayn was snatching a pillow off of the bed._

_“What are you doing?”_

_“I’m going downstairs.”_

_“Why?”_

_“Because I’m not in the mood to share a bed with you, that’s why.” Zayn pulled the closet door open and stood on his tiptoes, grabbing a pair of sweats that he kept on the top shelf. “When you pull your head out of your ass and want to apologize, let me know.” With that, he left Harry alone with his thoughts and headed down to the living room, switching off lights as he went._

“Dad and I had a disagreement,” Zayn tells him, looking Sawyer in the eye when his head comes up. “So I thought it’d be better if we got a little space, just for the night.”

“Are you going to leave?” Sawyer asks, and Zayn’s heart nearly crumbles when he sees Sawyer’s eyes welling up.

“No, I’m not. Sometimes…sometimes grown-ups argue and sometimes they say things that hurt each other so they need to spend a little time apart until they feel better. But I’m not leaving.” Zayn catches a movement in the corner of his eye and sees Harry standing in the doorway to the kitchen, one arm gripping the other over his chest, his feet turned in and looking just as little as the boy across from Zayn. So he repeats himself, keeping his eyes on Harry so both Styles men know he’s serious. “I’m not leaving.”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another surprise bit! Just an idea I had in my head that I needed to jot down. There might be little blurbs coming here and there for this universe, if I think of anything I want to add. 
> 
> [tumblr](http://inkoasis.tumblr.com)

**Author's Note:**

> [tumblr](http://inkoasis.tumblr.com)


End file.
